


Slow March to Freedom

by arial_destiny



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alcoholism, Angst, Blackmail, Homophobia, Lawyers AU, M/M, Pining, Sex Tape
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-04-13
Updated: 2016-04-24
Packaged: 2018-06-02 03:21:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,666
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6548590
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/arial_destiny/pseuds/arial_destiny
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Oikawa Tooru was a selfish brat, his new law partner and his boss's son. </p><p>The only upside to this arrangement was the sole fact that he was gorgeous, and for lonely bachelor Hajime, that was reason enough to deal with his bullshit.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Part 1

“You asshole ---” The words died on Hajime’s lips as his eyes widened and jaw dropped. There was Oikawa, a condescending smirk on his face but his usually immaculate suit was all...sexed up and- stuff. The sleeves pulled back, the top three buttons undone, collar popped, his shirt untucked slightly on one side to show a sliver of skin. He had a few bracelets on one wrist, a ring on one finger. His curly mass of brown hair was slicked up and gelled to one side, giving him a sultry, adult look rather than the typical pretty boy idol thing he got going on. He looked _good_.

“Iwa-chan! Let’s go for lunch~!” He winked at him. Hajime wanted to gag. _What. the. Fuck_.

He didn’t have the strength to retort, tell him. _Don’t call me Iwa-chan_ , because by the time his throbbing brain processed it, Oikawa already looped their arms together and was positively _skipping_ down the hall towards the elevator. The whole experience was a clusterfuck of bizarre and horror, something akin to a mix of Oikawa’s favorite supernatural movies to the horror films he would laugh all the way through in, leaving Hajime alone to insomnia for days while he giggles _that’s not even scwary! Iwa-chan is so cute when he’s scwared!_ in that infuriating fake nasally voice.

His heart was heavy with the suffocating feeling of dread. Something was wrong. Terribly wrong. What happened to his asshat partner who made fun of him for everything and cackled like a witch over his own lame jokes? It was like some alien came and kidnapped him, swapped the real Oikawa with this strange copy who clung to him and nuzzled his face into his shoulder like some sort of _Iwa_ \- _chan_ loving cat.

_What in the world was going on?_

 

Their law partnership started, as most do, in a law firm. Hajime was hired at 24 years old to the Oikawa family law firm, 60 employees strong. Their specialty was a mix of corporate and taxation law, and Hajime just passed his bar exam, still a fresh face to Tokyo’s soaring skyscrapers when his boss walked into his office one day, dragging behind him his unruly youngest son.

“Tooru, this is Iwaizumi Hajime, he will be your mentor from now on.”

His boss gave Hajime a haughty look. “I expect a lot from you two, so get along. I want you two to be partners.” _Partners_. And he was gone.

It was unheard of, Hajime was sure, to have law partners like this. He offered the boy a chair but he brushed him off and sat in Hajime’s chair instead. That should’ve been the first sign. He should’ve ran while he still could.

“So what do you,” Hajime said, trying his best not to sound rude. “What do you _do_ exactly?” _What the hell am I going to do with you._  

The boy looked like he was about to spit poison. A rattlesnake with its fangs open wide. Eyes slits.  “I was offered a spot on a professional volleyball league, my father refused to let me. Now I’m here as your paralegal as he tries desperately in vain to get me to go to law school.”

Hajime narrowed his eyes, tried his best to look professional instead of lashing out in anger like he wanted to. He locked eyes with him as he spun around in his arm chair, like a child on a swing. The boy was gorgeous, sharp features. Small, narrow face with soft curves like a woman. Pretty. Messy, but organized brown hair. A cute button nose. Large, almond eyes framed with long dark lashes. Fit. _His type._ If Oikawa Tooru wasn’t his boss’s son and instead a stranger at a bar in ni-chrome, Hajime would probably be sitting awkwardly next to him, stuttering remnants of a conversation, hoping to get laid.

“Why are you staring at me?”

Hajime snapped out of it, feeling the creep of a blush as the boy gave him a knowing smile. “Hm, Iwa-chan?”

The hairs on the back of his neck bristled at the nickname. “What did you call me?”

The boy giggled. _Giggled_. “I can tell we’re going to be best friends!”

 

Somewhere in the back of Hajime's head he knew he was supposed to give Oikawa work. Real paralegal work. Overwhelmed with client meetings, phone calls, and typing up legal letters, work got a hold of him and he failed to give the boy much to do except trips to the coffee machine. Oikawa’s constant need for pertinence meant he was more irritating than helpful, and his big, fat, ugly mouth meant he couldn’t let him answer client calls in case he said something irreversibly damaging to his career.

If Hajime was honest with himself, the most use the boy has been all week was when he would sort through his file cabinet to help him find files on clients, because the nice way his back side inclined gave him a nice view of his ass.

“Iwa-chan~! I’m bored.” Oikawa pouted and wormed his way into the client’s seat across from him. Long lashes cast dark shadows under his eyes. Hajime could feel his breath stopping as he look at his beauty.

“Do you know how to prepare legal documents?”

“Hm?” He tilted his head. That fake dumb look.

“Are you _actually_ a paralegal?” Hajime couldn’t help but be blunt. He wasn’t the sort to tiptoe around issues that have been bothering him.

“I went to school for it, mostly played volleyball in school though.” Oikawa shrugged. “I never passed my exam to be a paralegal, Father already enrolled me in law school for next year, I got in but,” he paused. “Not exactly interested, you see.”

“Really? I had no idea.” Hajime replied sarcastically.

“And now I’m stuck here until I start law school in spring! What do you want from me?” Smug, Oikawa leaned back in his hair, arms crossed behind his head.

 _A nice, rough fuck_ . Praying he never accidentally voices his thoughts, Hajime turned his attention to the whirlwind of notes and files on his desk, trying his best to concentrate on work. The last thing he needed was to get fired and a sexual harassment lawsuit slammed in his face. Bye, bye law career. God, why was he so gay and _desperate_?

Hajime passed his paralegal a stack of documents. “Go through these, they’re commercial purchase documents, finish the paperwork for all the ones you know how to do and I’ll check over your work.”

Oikawa’s face was washed in surprise, as if stunned he actually got a response. A small, genuine smile formed on his face. It was... _cute_. “Yes boss!” He grabbed the documents and bounded back to his side of the office, where his father had movers bring in a makeshift cubicle. Hajime couldn’t help but smile at bit too.

 

That afternoon he went over Oikawa’s work, him sitting across from him in the client’s chair, looking eager.

“Hm,” Hajime flipped to the last page. “A bit unpolished, but you did a good job, did you sort the ones you could do and the ones you couldn’t into separate piles? I’ll do the rest later.”

Oikawa nodded, reached out his palm and patted a split stack of paper. “Yep! Now what boss?”

He checked his watch. “I’m going to the university law library in about 15 minutes, need to do some research on a case.”

“Can I go too?”

“I thought you weren’t interested in law stuff.” Hajime met his eyes. “It’s not going to be fun watching me read books, I’m probably going to go straight home after.”

“But I’m bored.” He pouted again. Hajime couldn’t decide if he liked him or wanted to punt him. Oikawa Tooru was like a self absorbed child stuck in a gorgeous supermodel body.

“ _Fine_.”

 

The walk to Shinjuku station was brief, Hajime still wasn’t used to how condensed the city was, or the waves of people always coming and leaving, pushing, rushing. It was glorious. The Iwaizumi’s lived in the outskirts of Sendai, a part surrounded by city on one side and farmland on the other. From elementary to high school, he had seen the same few faces all his life. It was difficult coming into terms with himself and who he was.

Twelve, maybe thirteen was the age he discovered he was gay, but wisecracks from his classmates kept him in the closet and he was too afraid to be marginalized by his friends and peers so he kept it all in. He dated two girls in high school, one during university in Sendai, but overall it was a nerve wrecking experience where everyday he felt like he had to prove to someone he was worthy, living in constant fear of being found a fraud. He couldn’t bear the rejection of everyone he loved. No matter how guilty he felt about leading those girls on, his pathetic selfishness urged him to keep going. Thirteen years he lived way.

Here in Tokyo it was different. He knew no one except two friends from college he saw on rare occasions. He was decidedly lonely, to a point of crying in his sleep some nights, but his heart was _free_ . After a long day’s work, long past sunset, he could go to ni-chrome district and drink and flirt with as many men as he wanted. No one would never know. No consequences. It was just sex, no love. He never hoped for more. But it was the only time in his life he felt _free_.

On the train, Oikawa stood by him, shoulder bumping his shoulder. He would whine about the smallest things. _It was stinky in here. There’s too many people. He was thirsty._ Oikawa was a spoiled, rich brat who lived his life in luxury, never able to understand hardships. How in the world his boss expected them to get along was beyond him.

In his peripheral, Hajime could see the ladies nearby and the pack of giggling school girls skipping class giving the boy appreciative looks. He seemed to notice them and give them a wink in return. _They were too different._

The summer heat was blistering when they left the train station, a stark contrast with the air conditioned interior cranked down to a low 16 degrees C. Unconsciously, Hajime shivered as he felt the humidity condense on his skin. Wet. Suffocating.

“Are we there yet…” Oikawa whined again and it took everything not to pinch him. “The sun is bad for my skin.”

Hajime shot him a disgusted look. “ _Shut up, asshole_.” Slipped out before he could stop himself. Oikawa blinked at him, startled.

“Woowww, an ugly guy like you has an ugly mouth too, hmm?”

Hajime’s heart dropped, felt like squirming worms eating away the inside of his stomach. _Being called ugly by a hot guy was_ ... His cheeks flared with heat as he recalled spending all week staring at him with longing eyes. Around him, Hajime felt very much like a teenager again. _Caged_.

“Look, I’m trying to be cordial to you, but it’s impossible because you’re acting like a piece of shit. Stop whining like a child, this is your job! Take it more seriously!” That shut him right up, but not without shooting him a venomous look. They remained silent until they sat down in the library. He could feel Oikawa close up, as if erasing himself. Maybe sheepish even.

“These are the subjects I’m looking for, help me find some books.” Hajime passed him a list while doing his best to whisper. Oikawa leered at him, still bitter but got up and to work.

Time passed quickly, at least for Hajime. Oikawa kept adding books to the pile on his desk and he flipped through them, piling the ones he was going to use on one side and the ones he won’t use on the other side. Oikawa stopped complaining after his outburst, and to Hajime’s surprise, they actually made a pretty good team. Once he found all the subjects he was looking for, he got to work taking notes on what he needed, putting sticky tabs on the pages he needed. His partner’s job dwindled. Restless, Oikawa got up to browse around the library, got bored, and then proceeded to flirt with the young, flustered looking librarian while Hajime worked on his case.

Hajime started packing up his stuff around nine when the library was prepared to close. Yawning, he flipped through his notes lazily and then went to check out the books he still needed and almost walked out when he remembered he came here with Oikawa. It’s been several hours since he’s seen him. Last words had been “I’m going to get some food.”

“Oikawa!” He called out, only to hear his own echo. “Damn it.” Muttering to himself, he started searching between the aisles, thinking that perhaps the boy fell asleep somewhere and thus couldn’t hear him. It took only ten minutes before he heard his familiar giggle, that nasally squeal of delight between the book stands. He turned his head towards the source of the sound when a particularly high pitched moan stopped him in his tracks. It was the voice of the younger librarian lady, the one Oikawa had been flirting with. Her groans grew more alarmed and lewd.

“Ah! Not so rough!”

It took only a second for Hajime to decided to leave that asshole here. Clearly, he was too busy to be disturbed right now. _How in the world did this guy even hook up in a library?!_ He left for home, furious, tired and with a sick feeling at the pitch of his gut. The train was quiet alone, most officer workers had already gone back home to their wives. Hajime felt like he was getting an ulcer after only one week in the same room as this guy.

He couldn’t quite place the reason, but as he opened his front door and slumped against the wall, his chest felt itchy, like something was caught in his lungs. It made him want to vomit, but strangely enough, he felt like crawling into his bed and passing out without dinner. He could no longer deny it. The feeling ate at him, from the pit of his stomach to the tip of his nose. _He hoped for too much._

 

Hajime soon settled into a routine. His heart felt incredible coldness towards his new office mate, and spent as much energy as he could muster to ignore him, while giving him work to do with the fewest amount of words. Once in awhile he would catch himself staring at the boy. Dark curls. Beautiful eyes. He was smart enough to know himself. That he was attracted to his boss’s son. Feeling shameful, the lawyer bit his bottom lip and threw himself into work.

The door creaked open. In the office, the door knobs and floors all shined but no one ever greased the hinges, they always squeaked.

“Iwa-chan, here you go!” Oikawa passed him a coffee, tucking a loose strand of hair behind his ear. Hajime glanced at him and sipped his coffee. It was made just the way he liked it. He was impressed. Feeling a bit guilty about always brushing him off, Hajime spoke.

“Thanks.”

Oikawa sat down across from him, chin in his hand while the other played with the handle of his own coffee mug. He stared back at him with curious eyes. “We’ve been working together for a month now and I know barely anything about you.”

“Has it already been a month already?” Hajime eyed him with suspicion. _What was he up to?_  

“You know,” Oikawa continued, “if we’re going to be partners until spring, the least you can do try to be friendly, instead if being so _frowny_ all the time.”

“I am friendly.” In the face of overwhelming evidence to the contrary, the most Hajime could do to represent his client, in this case himself, is to deny, deny, _deny_.

“Why don’t we go to a bar after work? Try to be ‘friendly,’” Oikawa suggested.

Hajime searched his eyes, looked for some clue as to what this _friendly_ evening of theirs would suggest, looking for a sign of manipulation or some reason as to why _now_ of all times his boss’s son turned _friendly_ . There must be a _reason_.

“What’s the catch?” He sighed.

“You have to pay for my drinks.”

“Then my answer is no.” Hajime tried to shoo him away as he picked up his stack of notes, glancing over them. Pretending to be busy.

Oikawa pouted. “I’m just kidding! Come on, it’ll be fun!” He poked Hajime’s cheek with a finger, causing him to jump at his cold touch. “You know, most young lawyers would rejoice in an invitation for drinks from their boss’s son!”

Hajime raked his fingers through his hair, breathing deeply. “I’m not like most young lawyers then.”

 

Despite all his fighting against it, Hajime found himself in a bar several blocks down the street near the borders of Shin-Okubo. The Korea town was lit up in flashy lights of the newest Korean pop stars and windows of makeup and merchandise. Lined with restaurants, bars and arcades, the neighbourhood was full of young university-aged 20 somethings, arm in arm with lovers and friends. Hajime felt distinctly foreign, with his 500,000 yen Tom Ford suit and perfectly done tie, Oikawa walked beside him, pointing at restaurants he liked or posters of idols he liked.

“She’s my favorite in Girls Generation, whose yours?” He stopped and gestured to a large pin up poster.

“Hm,” Hajime gulped. In his throat was the familiar feeling of finding the words others wanted him to say. He would’ve thought by now he’d be used to it. “Never heard of them.”

“Not a fan of Korean idols?”

“Not really.”

“What about Japanese idols, you have a favorite?”

He gave the boy a look of antipathy. “Not a fan of idols in general, what are you? Still in high school?”

“High school girls are the best,” Oikawa poked his arm with a finger, “oh wow, you’re pretty fit aren’t you!”

Hajime bristled at the touch.  “That’s disgusting, you’re way too old for high school girls.” Then added. “Don’t molest my arm.”

“Wow, ‘molest,’ what a dirty world, you pervert!” With a push on Hajime’s back, Oikawa drew circles with the palm of his hands. “Great back muscles, you look like you’d be great a volleyball, a spiker maybe. You work out a lot?”

Hajime shrugged. The touching was a bit much for him but he’s not going to complain. “I go to the gym every morning, best to stay in shape. You used to play volleyball in school, right?”

“Yeah, I got signed onto a professional team too,” Oikawa paused, thinking. “They didn’t pay much, most players have a hard time paying for living expenses in Tokyo, and my father wanted me to inherit the family business. He wouldn’t let me play.”

Hajime thought about his own situation. His parents didn’t want him to chase a phantom dream in Tokyo either. “You’re an adult, you can make your own choices.”

“Heh,” he smiled bitterly. “Is that so.”

That was the end of the conversation, with renewed vigor Hajime was pulled along like a dog on a leash, past storefront after storefront the lights glittering and flashing enough to make his eyes cross. He was led to Oikawa’s favorite bar. A dingy place with missing lights in its neon sign. Crowded, loud, but Oikawa gestured to stairs and they climbed up, up, up to the third floor. Creaking wood met their steps. It was much more quiet up there, Hajime hated loud places where he couldn’t hear the other person speak, so he was much happier to sit at the counter, felt relaxed as Oikawa ordered and the bartender slipped a shot in front of each of them.

“Cheers!” Oikawa tipped his head and downed it in two gulps. Hajime followed, face twisted in a grimace as he choked back a swallow.

“What the hell is this?”

“My favorite concoction, just the starter for a long night.”

Well he wasn’t wrong. They talked, back and forth about little things. Gym routines, good restaurants in the area, what university they graduated from. It was ultimately small talk, comfortable enough in its casualness to get a few laughs from an increasingly inebriated Hajime, who caught himself thinking that wow, it's been ages since he’s just sat around talking to someone. It had been a good month or two since he last caught up with the two university friends he had here in Tokyo. As Oikawa snorted, and Hajime laughed, he couldn’t help but think: _This is nice._  

Knocking back his fifth drink, a dark beer, Hajime sighed loudly. “Man, that hit the spot.” His eyesight was already swimming, he didn’t drink more than a single beer when he usually went to a bar, his tolerance was sadly pathetic. Before he put his drink down, there was already another beer in front of him. “Isn’t this too much?”

“It's a Friday! Live a little you grumpy old man!”

Hajime frowned and flicked the boy’s nose, or at least what he _thought_ was the boy’s nose. His fingers felt numb. “I’m not an old man.”

“Just you wait until my dad starts calling on you for the monthly partnership drinking parties, god those are a hoot,” Oikawa laughed and pushed away his staggering fingers. “You know he keeps saying you’re gonna make partner in five years.”

“Pff,” Hajime bought his hand to scratch his nose. Strange. Why was it so itchy? Was it the neon glow of the bar lights? “Funny.”

“I’m serious, you’ve very good. My dad just _loves_ you.”

His nose twitched. He wants to scratch it. It was just so funny. “Your dad loves me? Damn, got the wrong Oikawa then.” Hajime tilted towards the bar, catching himself as his upper body fell forward in his seat. _What was he trying to do again? Oh right, his drink…the lights were awful bright. Who picked them?_  

A hand moved to steady his shoulder. “Iwa-chan, are you flirting with me?” The tone was a mix of jovial and serious.

Hajime rubbed his cheek with one hand while the other clasped the rough hand on his shoulder, hardened from years of playing ball. He stoked the back of the hand slowly, savoring the feeling of veins. “Hey...call me senpai. Iwaizumi-senpai.”

A giggle. “Okay _Iwa-chan-_ senpai, are you flirting with me?”

“Not that way, _Iwaizumi-senpai,_ repeat after me.”

“You’re funny when you’re drunk!” Something large and warm nudged his shoulder, he leaned into it. His cheeks felt hot. He wasn’t sure what the blur was in his eye and he rubbed it, but it wouldn’t disappear. “Iwa-chan.” A hot breath in his ear.

“What.”

“Where do you wanna go after?”

He felt around the bar counter until he felt the moisture of his beer glass. Turning it, he tipped it into his mouth, savoring the bitterness. “Your house.”

A chuckle. “Woah there big boy!”

Hajime frowned and grabbed a fist full of Oikawa’s curly locks. “You’re the boy here.”

“Ouch! Let go!”

The scent of strawberry filled his nose and he leaned closer to the soft brown hair, taking a whiff. “Damn you smell nice.” He took a bite.

“What are you doing?!”

Suddenly the glass in his hand was gone. He blinked wearily. _Where did it go?_  

“No more for you, Iwa-chan! That’s enough for tonight!”

He stared into a pair of brown eyes. “Does that mean we’re going home?”

A sigh. “Come on Iwa-chan, we’ll go to my place.” Hajime felt the warm thing pull his body up, he stumbled a step, reached out and grabbed it closer. “Ouch! Rude!”

Step by step, he moved onwards down the stairs and through the bar until the dampness of the outside air condensed on his face. At his eye level, he caught the sight of long lashes and he reached out and as gentle as his shaking hands could, brushed them tenderly. The skin of his cheek was soft.

“You’re beautiful.”

The warm thing stopped, bumping against his chest. “Just so we’re clear Iwa-chan, I’m taking you back because you’re way too drunk to get home alone and I don’t know where you live. No handsy pantsy, go it?”

“Huh?” He felt his stomach turn a little. Sourness crawled up his throat, then back down. He burped.

“Nevermind. You’ll thank me later.” Then. “Do you actually like guys or is that just a joke?”

Hajime blinked, the blurry spot in his vision was back. _Where was he going again?_  

“Iwa-chan?”

Right. Men. He loved them. Their muscles, their asses, their beautiful brown eyes. “Only the _beautiful_ ones.”

 


	2. Part 2

Sunlight streamed through the windows and hit his eyes as he blinked them open. Blinding but warm, the feeling of a late morning. Hajime’s vision was blurred, tell tale signs of an evening gone exceptionally bad...or exceptionally good. The pounding in his head squeezed him, paralysed him, but reminded him that he was still alive.

Pushing the comforter off his aching body, he came to the realisation that he was sleeping on a couch, and his surroundings were unfamiliar. Cream scented sheets. Soft leather cushions. It wasn't his apartment.

_ Where am I? _

“My place.” A voice answered. Hajime wasn't aware he spoke out loud, he twisted his body around the arm of the sofa, relishing the cracks in his back as he blinked away the last dreads of sleep.

Familiar brown curls approached him. Hajime almost didn't recognize Oikawa. “You look different from last night.”

A snort. “ _ Do I now? _ ” Suggestive, teasing. “How did I look last night?”

Hajime narrowed his eyes and tried to think, tapping the side of his head as his brain failed to recall anything of significance, honestly he barely remembered leaving his office the night before, but he could remember walking around Shinjuku, Oikawa-san’s son behind him, or maybe dragging him from behind.

“Hm,” he frowned at the pair of thick black framed glasses on the boy’s nose. “Like a teenager, that’s kind of gross.”

“Tch, rude.”

Around Hajime’s wrist was the cold metal of his watch. He glanced at it. “10 am already? Must have had a late night, what did we even do?”

Oikawa’s eyes stared at him, emotionless. There was something that unsettled Hajime when the boy looked this way, it aged him ten years and radiated coldness deep enough to chill his bones.  _ You’re my enemy. _ It said. But in a flash it was gone, replaced by Oikawa’s familiar cheap sleazy smile.

“You flopped around a bit on the couch, kind of disappointing. Just as it got good, you passed out.”

“Huh?” Hajime combed his fingers through his hair. It was too early for this game.

“I mean that movie we watched, don’t you remember? Some American horror movie about a chainsaw murder,” his eyes flicked down the hall, “you screamed the whole time.”

“Right.” He didn’t remember at all.

Oikawa gestured with his thumb. His long lashes fluttered along his cheeks. “Breakfast is ready  _ your highness _ .”

“Shut up.”

“Ha!”

  
  


Oikawa’s apartment was strangely utilitarian. Hajime was observant, more so than most gave him credit for. At the office he was known as the new associate with an anger problem, never failed to let anyone know he disagreed, refused to back down when he knew his client was right. He could be a downright asshole, but he was a fair asshole. That made him popular with the partners. A shark, a true shark.

Hajime’s paralegal, on the other hand, could be compared to a pomegranate. Beautiful and rouge on the outside, squeeze it and you get sweet juice, but as you chew, tasting the fruit with the tip of your tongue you end up with a mouth full of pulp. His closet overflowed with designer clothes, fashionable sets from the last magazine spreads.  _ Uncomfortable-looking _ . That was how they looked. Yet here was his apartment, walls bare and sparse with furniture, as if he could get up and run away at any moment. It lacked all the décor of his body. None of the flare.

“It’s a nice place.” It wasn’t sarcastic. For a place this large in Tokyo, Hajime was sure daddy’s wallet was involved. 

Oikawa chewed his breakfast of steamed egg in rice, nonchalantly glancing over the morning news on his phone. Hajime wasn’t a shy guy, but the casualness of this domestic situation made him feel a bit on edge. “A bit empty, did you move in recently?”

“Since the start of university, my family used to have it as a rental.” 

Hajime nodded. They fell into silence. He shifted his legs. Looked for somewhere to stare at.

Oikawa cleared his throat. “So...you have anywhere to go today?”

He almost choked on his rice, gulped down half a glass of water before answering. “Not really.”

“Oh.”

Silence.

“So...no plans?”

Hajime shrugged. “No, you?”

“I know it’s hard to believe, but even beautiful people like me need alone time. Surprised right? Yeah, I know.”

Chewing thoughtfully between bites, he glanced at his watch again. 10:32 am. “That's hard to believe, I've been hearing your whiny voice for how many weeks now?”

The boy pouted. That stupid, childish look. “Mean.” Then, “why do you keep looking at your watch if you don’t have anywhere to be?”

Hajime stared at him.  _ So he is observant too _ . Two cats in an alleyway, waiting for the other to make a move first. “Thought I may go by the office today.” He head pounded in response.  _ Maybe after a pain-killer or two _ .

“What?” Oikawa deadpanned. “It’s our Saturday off this week! The only day we get off because we have to prepare for Monday negotiations!

The words came out before he could stop himself. “What about when you played volleyball in school? Did you take weekends off then?”

Oikawa shut up.

They ate their breakfast in silence. Hajime chewed and chewed, the food tasting like pulp in his mouth as he made the motions. Before he got too comfortable settled into the apartment, he picked up his jacket and made his way back to the main hall after helping with the dishes. The noticed a door, likely to lead to a second bedroom but the door knob was covered in dust. Oikawa’s room laid wide open, he could see all his clothes skewed out on the dresser and floors, but this door was in disuse.

“What’s in there?”

Oikawa stopped behind him, gave him that unnerving look. Cold. Calculated. And smiled. “Nothing Iwa-chan-senpai, just using it for storage. Here,” he handed him a small bag. “Some snacks I made two days ago, they’re still good.”

“Thanks, for these and breakfast,” Hajime paused to bow slightly, “And the couch last night.”

“No problem, since you’re such a workaholic, you can stay more often if you’d like.” Oikawa gestured his nose towards his couch. “I live really close to the office, like a 10 minute walk so you can crash if you wanna.”

Hajime churned the idea around. They had only known each other for a month, the boy was the senior partner’s son. Combine Hajime’s lustful feelings towards the boy’s behind and it was a recipe for disaster. A ticking time bomb. Tick, tick, tick.

_But those large, gorgeous brown eyes_ _stared back at him_. 

“Sure.”

  
  


“Iwaizumi-san,” Hajime’s office assistant knocked on the door of his office, bowed and gave him a slight smile. “Oikawa-san wants to see you.”

It was a Monday morning. Saturday night he had just finished filing the last of his documents for a recent purchase agreement for a big client. The sun was just cracking the horizon.

“Thank you Yamada-san. When should I meet him?”

“Around 8 am.”

“Sure.”

She smiled at him, lips rouge, face caked in too much make-up. Shifting her weight from one high heel to the other, Yamada fidgeted with her folio in his doorway.

“Is there something wrong?”

“No, um. Well, yes.”

Hajime raised an eyebrow. “Which is it?”

Shuttering, she blinked rapidly. Her long fake lashes looked like hard plastic in the light, not at soft and fluttery like Oikawa’s. “I was wondering if you have some free time tonight.”

“Depends,” Hajime scratched his chin. “If Oikawa-san has another case for me or not.”

“Maybe...dinner?”

He shrugged. “I usually order something in.”

“Oh.”

He expected her to leave, but he continued to dilly dally in his doorway, fidgeting.  _ Was it cold in here or something…? Oh.  _ It hit him.

“Uh, I’m sorry if I’m reading the situation wrong here but I’m afraid I’m not interested-”

“He’s having dinner with me tonight.” Oikawa interrupted. He arrived hair immaculate, juggling two coffee cups and his shoulder bag. He gave her a sleazy grin with a vicious shine in his eyes. “We’ve got a lonngg evening.”

Hajime’s mouth went into a flat line. “Sorry, Yamada-san, please excuse us.”

She nodded, gave Oikawa a strange look and closed the door quietly behind her.

“She’s cute. Your assistant.” Oikawa put one cup down on his desk a little too hard, splashing it a bit. “Not your type?”

He wasn’t sure how to respond. ‘ _ Sorry, my type is tall pretty boys who happen to be my boss’s son. The more taboo, the better.’  _ Just wasn't going to do it. “Um, no.”

“A bit fake, too much make-up.” 

Hajime eyed the way Oikawa’s perfectly tailored suit accentuated the curve of his waist, the roundness of his ass, the slicked back bangs, wet with gel. “Look who's talking.”

“Ha ha, sorry to tell you, but I’m a natural beauty!” He stuck out his tongue, childish grin on his face as he went to sit at his own desk in the corner. “So what’s the plan today, Iwa-chan-senpai?”

“Stop calling me that.” He could feel wrinkles developing between his brows. “Your father wants to see me at 8 am sharp.”   
  
  


The corner office with the glass walls and slick metal door held three of the firm’s partners. Supposedly it was built to be a conference room, but the partners used it mostly as a work room for their cases. Ugly cabinets lined up around the walls, clearly seen from the outside. 

“Iwaizumi-san.”

Hajime bowed deeply. “Oikawa-senpai.”

The older man stood and grasped both his hands, shaking them slightly. Unlike Oikawa who had a soft narrow face and a vicious expression, his father had a mean look with a slack expression. He could never read what he was thinking. But he always looked upset. From the gossiping office assistants, he had once overheard in the coffee room that the boy resembled his mother who used to be a model for a magazine and only inherited his father’s height and ambition. 

“I've been very impressed with you so far.” Oikawa-san’s partners nodded behind him. “You've shown that you have a lot of potential from that last purchase agreement, so I'm handing you second chair for another big case.” He gestured to the piles and piles of thick folders scattered across the desk. “Yamada will help move them to your office. This is a big deal, our client is the head of an old family business,  recently they've gotten too big for him to head alone so they’re planning on incorporation. There is a lot of work involved, as public market trading will be difficult because of the entangled nature of the company’s capital, I expect the best from you, this could make or break your career.” He stared into Hajime’s eyes, cold pupils dry looking from a distance. 

“Have my son help you, alone you will lose our client.”

“Yes.” Hajime’s heart leapt. This case could be a big deal. Perhaps it was a test, something far too difficult that will go over his head, ruin his career, force him to go home back to Miyagi. But it was also a  _ chance _ . Oikawa-san was opening big doors for him.

“Tomorrow at 10 am, you will meet our client, until then, I expect you to remember every sentence in these files. You will need to know his company better than he does.”   
  
  


Yawning, Hajime started to pack his bags, stopped when he realised how late it was and how early he would be back in the office, then stuffed his wallet into the back pocket of his pants and left the mess of paperwork behind. 

As he rounded the corner towards the elevator, he was surprised to find none other than Oikawa idling around the front desk, fingers tapping against the granite surface. For the third week in a row, they've been the last in the office. 

“Why are you still here? I thought you left 15 minutes ago.”

“I thought about waiting.”

“Why?” He cracked his neck, “It’s late, time to go.” He walked past him, towards the elevator door.

“Iwa-chan-” Fingers brushed against his arm. “Hey.”

“When’s the last time we had a break? It’s Sunday tomorrow.”

“You can if you want, I'm not forcing you to work.”

“I was just thinking,” he pursed his lips. “Since we always work so late, why don’t you just stay over at my place? The couch is not bad, and it’s so much closer than your place. Aren’t you on the train for like half an hour one way?”

Hajime shrugged. “Not everyone can afford an apartment in Shinjuku.”

“Look,” Oikawa cut in front of him, blocking his way. “We can take our laptops home and do research on the weekends, better than getting stiff neck in the office everyday. Just stay at my place.”

It was late. The sun had long past left the sky. Tokyo’s persistent bright lights made it impossible to see the stars. Just a little bit, Hajime missed home. He missed having someone in the house when he got back home, someone to stargaze with on hot summer nights, cicadas chirping in the background. A warm body next to him.

“Yeah, good idea.”

Oikawa looked confused. “Huh? What, really? We’re not going to fight about this?”

“Don’t we fight enough everyday?”

“Well yeah, I’m just surprised.”

He frowned. “Forget it, I’ll just go home.”

“No! No!” Oikawa smiled. It didn’t have its usual viciousness. Soft. Genuine. It was a good look on him. “I'm pretty lonely living by myself, so stay over at my place!”   
  
  


“Welcome back!” Oikawa giggled as he led him to his apartment, neatly placing his shoes by the door and sliding his way across the hardwood floor towards the bedroom. Hajime followed him, smiling a bit at his words.  _ Welcome back, huh _ .

Kicking up his feet, Oikawa shot him a sly grin as he watched Hajime’s bag flop against the wooden floor, burrowing himself into his neatly folded sheets, Oikawa seemed like a 600 thread count minimum type of guy. His hands reached under his pillow, frantically searching for a few seconds before he pulled out a remote and turned on the AC.

“I'm going to take a shower, are you going to go first?” Hajime felt a little awkward standing at the doorway, staring at his boss’s son reclined on his fort of pillows as if expecting a guest of the female nature later in the night.

“You can go ahead, but call me when you’re ready.”

Hajime scratched the itchy spot on his temple. “Ready for…?”

Oikawa tilted his head to the side, as if the answer was obvious. “Ready to have me wash your back.”

“Fuck off.”

“Ha ha ha, Iwa-chan is so crude!”

  
  


The shower was steaming hot, just the way Hajme liked it. His own apartment was a bit old, the pumping system just couldn't get up to the right temperature and always hovered around warm rather than hot. He dried himself in one of Oikawa’s fluffy white towels, the kind you would normally find in an expensive hotel, Hajime laughed to himself thinking that even when it came to toiletries the boy was undoubtedly spoiled. _ The hardships of growing up rich _ .

“I’m done, Oikawa!” He called out as the walked out the bathroom, towel twisted around his waist. “Oikawa!” No Answer. “Oi-”

His feet stopped. There was Oikawa, chest slowly rising up and down, sprawled out spread eagle on the bed, passed out. His pink lips were pursed, lashes drawing long shadows on his cheek from the light of the lamp. Hajime couldn't help but smile a little.  _ Maybe I’ve been working him too hard _ . Quiet footsteps on the soft carpet led him to the bedside where he was about to turn off the lamp and let the boy rest when an idea came to him. Before the logical side of his brain could talk him out of it, he went back to the living room where he left his bag and pulled out his cellphone, sneaking back into Oikawa room with careful steps back to his bedside.

Making sure the flash was off, Hajime took a couple of pictures of his sleeping partner, feeling vaguely like a creepy old man but the implications of having some blackmail material on the little shit urged him on. Satisfied with the photos, he clicked off the light and tiptoed his way back to the living room where the couch was waiting for him.   
  
  


“Iwa-chan.”

Hajime’s eyes cracked open, the hallway light was on, blinding him. “What,” he rubbed the sleep was his eyes, head pounding in protest, “time is it.”

“4 am.”

Anger shook the sleep right out of him. “I know this is your house, but how often does the Oikawa house wake up at 4 am.” He blinked, eyes focusing on the fuzzy image of the boy sitting against the foot of the couch, dark rimmed glasses perched on his nose.

Oikawa snorted. “My father is your boss, you should know the answer to that is always.”

“Well,” Hajime raked his fingers through his spiky hair. It was still a bit damp from his shower. “Shit.”

“Iwa-chan, have you ever looked at someone and thought that they were everything you never wanted to be?”

Hajime brain could barely register what he was saying, let alone form coherent words. “No.” 

He could hear Oikawa move and the couch sink where his weight settled near Hajime’s feet. 

“You know, I’ve been thinking...people are so irrational, like you know you shouldn't feel this way but no amount of self convincing can change how you feel.”

“That’s a weird thing to think about.”

“It passes the time when I can’t sleep a night.”

“Maybe you over thinking is what keeps you up at night.” 

“Unlike you, I'm a philosophical type!” Hajime’s face was buried in the couch cushion but he could just picture the pout on the boy’s face. “I've just been thinking a lot lately…”

“Nerd. God, go to sleep.” Hajime turn around and squinted into the light. “What’s with the glasses any ways?”

“Oh, I passed out with my contacts in, and it made my eyes sore.”

“Huh,” Hajime yawned loudly, determined to get a few more hours of sleep. “That looks kind of cute.” His vision swam and he obliged to let his eyelids fall shut, letting himself be engulfed in the darkness and sounds of gentle breathing. Warm. His toes were warm.   
  
  


Hajime had honestly thought Oikawa’s invitation to his home was a kind gesture for his senpai since three weeks of zombiehood has done a real number on him. After Oikawa’s rude awakening at 4 am, he had passed out again until the rays of light streaming into the living room was unbearable around noon. He gave Oikawa a half-hearted wave and mumbled words of thanks before he trotted down the stairs and towards the train station to his own apartment across town.

He didn't have the pocketbooks to afford the luxury of Shinjuku. Sunday passed uneventfully with TV reruns of period dramas and Chinese takeout, he received a call from his university friend Yuda and exchanged gossip and complains about their respective law careers.

When Hajime woke up the next morning for work, sun still yet to make an appearance, he had the strangest feeling that something was wrong. He wasn't the superstitious type but it was like a gnawing inside him, his body warning him of danger, that something was out to get him. He swallowed his anxiety like a good adult and trekked his way to Shinjuku, black suit and dress shirt like every other salaryman on the train. There was a part of him that wondered if all these other men were happy, working crazy hours everyday while their wives and children laughed without them. Was it any better than this.

Two steps into his office, and the gnawing anxiety only amplified. There, right smack in the center of his desk was a vase of perennials, his nose itched just looking at it, remembering well that he was very, very allergic to flowers. Beside it, in big bold letters. 

_ For the lonely bachelor Iwa-chan. _

“What the-” He heard the click of leather shoes behind him.

“Good morning, Iwaizumi-san!”

Hajime spun on his heels.

“Oikawa-” He stopped. “Oh, Yamada-san.”

The girl smiled, curling her demonic looking red lips. “Actually it’s about Oikawa-san, uh, the younger one. He called this morning and said he was busy last night, he was too tired so he’ll come in tomorrow.

“Oh, okay.” Hajime’s assistant bowed and took her leave. Raking his fingers through his hair, he closed his office door and threw himself on his chair, nose twitching as he glared at the vase.  _ How in the world did Oikawa get this vase in if he didn't wake up today _ ? He frowned and shoved the vase onto his file cabinet. 

“I don’t have the time for this!” He growled in frustration.

 

**Author's Note:**

> probably not the most accurate description of a Japanese law firm, but I did my best :')


End file.
